Challenges
by Alexandra Lynch
Summary: Sequel to Passages and last in the series. New year, and a new challenge. Do you follow old patterns or dare to heal?
1. The Night Before School

Author's note: One woman in three. One man in four. Teach our children that love respects boundaries.  
  
I am a survivor, not a victim. --A.L.  
The day before leaving for school  
  
"Hermione! Mail!" The yell came from downstairs, and Hermione turned from contemplation of her trunk and its contents. All thoughts of whether she needed to take that particular book or not were forgotten as she hurried down the twisting staircase from her room at the Burrow. She was as adept as the Weasleys at avoiding the creaky stair, and pelted into the kitchen and dropped into a chair, holding her hand out to Hedwig. The owl accepted the caress, and nibbled her fingertips affectionately.  
  
"Here's your letter, 'Mione," Harry said. "From your father, it looks like."  
  
"Great!" Hermione said. "He hinted last time he wrote that he was going to send me something. I wonder...."  
  
She opened the letter, and smiled as a check fell out in her hand. "Oh, how wonderful of him! I have instructions to spend it ONLY on robes and makeup and other girlish things, not on the dreary necessities of life."  
  
"I thought robes and makeup WERE dreary necessities of female living," Harry said, deadpan, and ducked the blow she mimed at his head.  
  
"He thanks everyone again for the hospitality, and says he can still taste your carrot cake, Molly," she continued, shooting a look at her friend's mother, who was frowning at a recipe at the other corner of the table. At that, Molly smiled.  
  
"He was a delightful guest, dear heart. Now I know where you get your sense of humor."  
  
"And...Oh." She stopped, and said, "Well, somehow I saw it coming."  
  
"What?" said Ron, pointing his wand at a particularly stubborn spot on the pan with a muttered incantation. "They getting a divorce?" Everyone in the room ducked as the spell bounced off the pan and hit the ceiling, where it removed the years-old stain left by a game of Exploding Snap.  
  
"Try leaving it to soak five minutes while the plates wash, Ron. Muggle tricks do occasionally work," she said. "Yeah, I guess him going off here without her was the final straw."  
  
"She WAS invited," Molly said. "We all know that."  
  
"Yes, well, considering how she is about magic, and everything else....did you really think she'd come?"  
  
"Well, no," Molly said. "I presume she felt her no extended to both of them. I wonder what's wrong with her."  
  
"I don't know," Hermione said with a sigh. "She's my mother, I see her face in my mirror...but she's awfully hard to love."  
  
Molly stood up and gave her a hug. "Just so you understand her issues are hers, and not yours, dear."  
  
"I know," Hermione said, leaning happily into the hug. "What's Ginny doing?" "Probably doing her usual dithering over what to include," said Ron, leaving the dishes to finish themselves and coming over to steal the latest issue of "Quidditch Today" out from Harry's pile. He was reading a letter from his godfather and reacted a second too late.  
  
"Hey, that's MINE, Ron!"  
  
"You weren't reading it!" Ron shouted over his shoulder as he escaped into the front room with his prize.  
  
Harry muttered something about revenge and went back to reading his letter. "Are you all packed, Ron?" his mother called.  
  
"All but what I've got on, my pajamas, and my robes for tomorrow," he called.  
  
"You might want to grab the bath before the girls decide they want it," his mom said. "We'll be off early, and you don't get up well." Ron's preference to sleep until the absolute last minute, whether before departing or morning Potions class, was well known to all of them, and he took the suggestion, heading upstairs, the stolen magazine still open as he read.  
  
Harry watched, waited for the gurgle of water to come from upstairs, and then hastened upstairs, coming down again with the magazine and a look of triumph. "It's MY subscription, damn it, " he said, and opened it with an air of satisfaction as Ginny came downstairs.  
  
"Everything packed, dear? her mother asked, and Ginny nodded.  
  
"I'll probably think of something once I get on the train, of course."  
  
"I"ll owl you anything you think of, dear, you know that."  
  
"Yeah, but...I suppose it's just nerves," she said, stealing Hermione's coffee.  
  
"Get your own, Gin!" Hermione said, stealing it back with a laugh. "Really!"  
  
Ginny laughed, and looked down. "Letter from your father? May I?"  
  
"Yeah...they're splitting."  
  
"Oh, honey," Ginny immediately said. "Are you..."  
  
Hermione nodded. "After what happened this summer, I'm not who I was. Dad and I are still working out how to relate to each other, adult to adult, and...well, I know you write my Mom once a month or so to let her know what's going on, but otherwise I don't talk to her, and Dad had been saying that she's changed for the worse since he had the bypass done."  
  
Ginny was scanning the letter. "I don't know how she can say she loves him and treat him like this," she said.  
  
"Not everyone knows how to love, Ginny," her mother said. "You did say she had issues, and if they're deep enough they can poison and twist you for a lifetime."  
  
Hermione nodded. "I'm better now...you all know that...but I still sometimes have to work to not hear my mother in the back of my head, telling me that hugging is for babies, to grow up and act like a lady, all that stuff."  
  
"Out of curiosity, Hermione, when did that start?" Molly asked.  
  
"I was around...oh, nine or ten, I think, " Hermione said. "Why?"  
  
"I just wondered what her issue could be," Molly said.  
  
"What I know is that she got really protective of me in a hands-off way," Hermione said. "She changed her hours at the office so that she was always home with me when I was, and she took me with her when she went anywhere rather than leave me home...not that she went anywhere, much. And she started having bad insomnia about then. I mean, I'd wake up and she'd be looking in my room, and if I got up to visit the loo in the night she'd be up and ask me if everything was okay. Strange."  
  
"But it sounds like he's feeling good," Ginny said, looking up from the letter. "Said he sent you a present....Hey!" Ginny said, giggling. "You're going to have fun the first Hogsmeade weekend!"  
  
"No, WE'RE going to have fun. Did you see the dress robes in the latest issue of Witches Weekly?"  
  
"No...."  
  
"Come on, there's one I think would seriously suit you...."  
  
The two girls went upstairs, and Harry looked up from his magazine.  
  
"Trying to figure out Hermione's mum?" he asked. Molly was frowning off into space. She jumped and smiled ruefully at his question.  
  
"My besetting sin, I'm afraid," she said. "I always did want to be a mediwitch, but, well, the kids came too quickly."  
  
"You'd be a good one, " Harry said sincerely. He was impressed by his friend's mother, both her cheerful organization of anyone in sight and her impressive insight. "It's not impossible...we're almost all out of the house, so you could go back to school."  
  
"I've considered it, I'll admit," she said, as a roar came from upstairs.  
  
"HARRY! Damn it, Harry, I was halfway through that article on chasing!"  
  
Molly and Harry's eyes met, fell to the magazine he had been reading, and they both giggled.  
  
"Work it out, you two," she said. "I'm going for a walk in the garden."  
The noises of the house receded as Molly took herself outside and looked at the twilight shades of her garden. Her roses were the best they'd been in years; of course, this was at least as much due to the fact that there were no small children about to trample them as to any improved care system. A burst of giggles drifted from an upstairs window, and some raised voices indicated that the difference of opinion over the magazine were continuing. She was going to miss them, she reflected. The last summer was over. Even if they came home next summer, it would be a mere waystop on the way to their own place, their own lives. Ginny still had a year to go, of course, but she knew that if their relationship this summer was any indication, Ginny would spend a good part of next summer in Hermione's apartment. And, of course, there was the war.  
  
Arthur hadn't said anything he shouldn't. But he was looking tireder and older, and working longer hours. The caliber of enchantments that he was running into had changed; fewer harmless jokes like the coffeepots that dispensed beer, and more actively dangerous things. He was having to work more closely with the wizards on the front lines, and Arthur had never been one for open conflict, if he could help it.  
  
Percy had been promoted, but he didn't seem interested in discussing much of anything with anyone except his father. And those conversations broke off when anyone came in the room. He kept conversation with his mother and siblings firmly on the state of their favorite Quidditch pro teams and, recently, the happy distraction of Penelope's turning out pregnant. Molly smiled. Grandchildren were a happy thought.  
  
Bill and Charlie were a constant worry, though. If she thought too much about the Chinese Fireballs and Norwegian Ridgebacks Charlie handled, she'd be a nervous wreck. But then again, he'd been blessed from birth with an ability to come up smiling and whole from truly spectacular mishaps. And Bill....well, he was someone she didn't worry about too much, but he was alone, and she knew he wouldn't be truly happy until he found himself a guy to love. Then again, taking care of him when he'd managed to get in the way of a truly spectacular booby-trap about a month back had reawakened all her maternal protective instincts toward him, and her initial distrust and dislike of his job. He'd scoffed, pointing out that he'd done this for years and this was the first injury he'd had to take time off for, but it hadn't helped.  
  
And then there were the twins. Despite herself, Molly smiled. The joke shop was certainly prospering. The twisted genius that had made them a byword at Hogwarts was bearing fruit in all manner of joke items that were becoming a small fad in the wizarding world. Molly was personally just glad it was out of their bedroom in HER house. Amazing the house was still standing, she thought to herself. But they were good boys. Scarcely a week went by that one or the other didn't Floo over for a visit, sometimes staying for dinner.  
Molly sighed, and looked out at the sunset, and enjoyed the peace, until someone called, "Mum! Dad's home!" and she returned to the comfortable chaos of The Night Before Going Off To School with a fairly happy heart. 


	2. Shadows on the Sun

one month later  
Hermione hadn't anticipated how busy she'd be, what with advanced classes, Head Girl status, and the extra credit project she'd taken on in Arithmancy. But Saturdays belonged to her and Ginny, by common accord, no matter how pressing the projects they were both doing. They walked together through the fallen leaves on the Hogwarts grounds or curled together in the corner of the common room talking, or, sometimes, spent the time in more intimate pursuits in one of their bedrooms. They had both gotten very good with silencing charms.  
  
Ron had buckled down and gotten to work. With a goal in mind, he even skipped attendance at a Quidditch match in order to master a particularly intricate spell for Advanced Charms, and could occasionally be found with the diminuitive professor animatedly discussing the best methods of defusing various magical devices. His girlfriend Sylvia had retreated behind her own fortress of books, and neither seemed particularly disconsolate. Apparently that relationship had ended with a whimper instead of a bang. Harry, too, was studying hard, and when he wasn't buried in his books he was on the Quidditch field flying. As he had predicted, there were now scouts at some of the school matches, and Harry was getting a steady stream of owls about his future plans.  
  
Often, though, the four of them could be found sitting together at a table heaped with books, silent save for someone chanting potions ingredients or spell categories under his breath and the scratch of quills. They had all mastered the companionable skill of working side by side, and although no words might be exchanged except the courtesies of arriving and leaving, the warmth of friendship was its own current between them.  
--3:45 pm,Thursday--  
  
Sensitive as she was to her partner's moods, Ginny did a doubletake when Hermione sat down beside her, radiating a baffled and angry helplessness that expressed itself in the way she rolled out her parchment and banged down her book.  
  
"What's up?" Harry said, his attention drawn by the angry movements.  
  
Her voice was angry and low. "Fucking Crabbe. Fucking Goyle. Offspring of a troll and a hag, the both of them."  
  
The curses made the people at the next table look over, and Hermione took a deep breath to get herself under control.  
  
"What happened, Hermione?" Ron asked, brow furrowed.  
  
Ginny glanced at Harry, and saw him take on the focused awareness that came over him on the playing field.  
  
"Oh, the usual unpleasantness," she said with a brittle airiness. "Offering to show me what a man is like, and all that crap."  
  
"I meant it, Hermione," Ron said. "I'm perfectly happy to give you a hand with dealing with them. There's only one language clods like them understand."  
  
"Offer appreciated, Ron," she said, with a sigh, "But really, they're just trying to get my goat. If either of us responds, they'll keep it up, and you and I don't keep the same schedule any more... it'd just get me a confrontation somewhere else. I have better things to do." She looked at her assignment notebook, then at it again, and then looked at Harry, frowning. "We were supposed to do two feet for Potions, right? He must be feeling unusually good, that's short."  
  
"Yeah," Harry said, "Who knows. I'm just grateful for any breaks I can get, I've got a match tomorrow, and a practice tonight after dinner. Shorter work is good."  
  
There were sounds of assent around the table, and everyone bent to their work. But Ginny still worried, and at supper, she decided she'd talk to Hermione.  
--seven pm, the same day--  
  
The Great Hall was, as usual, bright with color and full of the din of conversation. The one good thing about the noise, Ginny reflected, was that having a conversation of whispers in someone's ear was understandable and inconspicuous. She gathered up her courage, waited until Hermione swallowed the bite in her mouth, and spoke.  
  
"Have you spoken to McGonagall about this yet?"  
  
"About...Oh. No."  
  
"Why not?" pressed Ginny. "If you were out, at work, this would be illegal, and you know it."  
  
"And what will reporting it get me?" Hermione said, in an undertone. "I'll get harassed more by them because I got them in trouble. I knew when you and I came out that shit would happen. It's nothing I can't handle."  
  
"All right," Ginny said. "I just worry, because your estimates of your capacity for putting up with shit are sometimes a little higher than it should be, and you don't stop when you should."  
  
Hermione exhaled. "I know." She laid down her knife and squeezed Ginny's arm briefly in an affectionate gesture. "But...I just think this is the right thing to do.And, well, I've got to play it my way."  
  
"I know, " Ginny said, smiling at her. I love her so much, she thought. "I do understand." But she started eating again before she made any promises.... like not going to McGonagall herself.  
They were on their way out when it happened. It was just Ginny and Hermione, since Ron and Harry had gone off to Quidditch practice.  
  
Ginny yelped as she stepped around a knot of students, coming around with her wand in hand and the other rubbing her ass. "Who the hell...?"  
  
The knot of black robes revealed Malfoy and his cronies, with Avery smirking and grinning at Ginny. Malfoy reached out and slapped Avery lightly across the head.  
  
"How rude, Avery," he said. "Apologize to Miss Weasley."  
  
"I'm sorry, Miss Weasley, " Avery repeated in a singsong, with anything but apology in his voice.  
  
"Are you guys ever going to quit this bullshit?" Hermione said, annoyance in her voice.  
  
"Well, you know, it's hard for a man to control himself around beautiful women. But I can see your annoyance at their rather crude attempts." He was being quite smooth. It was ruined by the fact that his eyes were slowly undressing her. "I'm sure your type is the more cultured variety, more...."  
  
"Cut the crap, Malfoy, you're not my type. You're never going to be my type. I like girls, in case you hadn't heard. Now, go polish your broomstick and leave me alone, all right?"  
  
And she walked off, leaving them behind her amidst a few snickers at their expense from the onlookers.  
  
She left the memory, even, behind when she entered the library. Madam Pince gave her a small nod that would have been a welcoming smile from anyone else, and she headed back to her favorite study carrell. Whatever else might go on, she still had that potions practical to copy out neatly. And the Arithmancy assignment that she hadn't proofread. And she still had to do more than just read her sources for the History of Magic assignment due next week...why, if she wanted to relax that weekend, the paper had better be written by Friday. She spared a momentary panic for the Transfiguration paper due tomorrow before she remembered she had written it three days ago and put it in her desk drawer. All right. Everything was under control. She pulled out her rough draft and fresh parchment, took a deep centering breath, dipped her quill and began to write, happily losing herself in a creative trance.  
--eight-thirty pm, the same day--  
  
Ginny yelped with surprise as she and her Head of House tried not to fall down the stairs after colliding with each other.  
  
"At least as much my fault as yours, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said. "My apologies...Are you all right?"  
  
"Yes...." Ginny said, looking at her, and thinking of her earlier conversation. "But, Professor, I wanted to ask you...."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Ginny changed her mind. "Um, never mind....I've got Potions to work on." And she turned pink and took off up the stairs.  
  
Professor McGonagall looked after her with some puzzlement before she continued on her way. That wasn't like Ginny...but, then again, when she was ready to talk she would. 


	3. Thoughtless Action

--ten forty-five pm, Thursday evening--  
  
She was walking back to her rooms from the library, bookbag its familiar weight on her shoulder, when she ran into him. Literally. Her mind had been miles away, on the delightful thought of Ginny, and the upcoming weekend.  
  
"You know, Granger, I'd be delighted to rub up against you, but you might ask first, " came his cool, superior drawl.  
  
(Malfoy. Fucking great. JUST what I needed...) "My apologies, Malfoy. Now, if you don't mind...." She moved to go around him, but he stepped adroitly, trapping her between himself and the wall.  
  
"I reiterate my offer, Granger," he said, a charming smile quirking his mouth. "There's a couple spots I've worked out for uninterrupted inter- House socializing, one not far from here, if you'd be interested in accompanying me."  
  
"I'd sooner accompany a manticore, you git," she snapped. "Besides, I've got a date already."  
  
"Do you," he said, with a smile that made her very nervous. "Ginny Weasley does have a damned hot body, I'll admit. And how convenient that you're older, with your own room. Tell me, is she any good in bed?"  
  
He stepped closer to her, and she realized that he was taller than she was, and, by virtue of being male, most likely stronger. A small chill wave of fear coiled in her belly.  
  
"Get out of my way," she said, and hoped that her voice wasn't shaking.  
  
"Oh, no," he said, with rich appreciation. "Not when I've got you so very nicely where I want you. You've gotten a nice set of tits, you know, Granger... Half of Slytherin's staring at them when you bend over your cauldron in Potions.You really should consider expanding your horizons." His eyes dropped to her breasts, and then he touched her, pressing himself against her in a very intimate way.  
  
She slapped him. His lids dipped, and when he raised them his eyes had seemingly gone dark, pupils widened with rage as the grey eyes went ice cold. "That was very stupid, you know," he said, and his fist crashed into her jaw. Her head snapped back, and she felt her vision grey out as she slumped against the wall, but she fought it, and lifted her head in time to see him stepping back. A deft movement had a wand in his hand, and she had just time for a small frightened gasp before it suddenly flew out of his hand.  
  
"Accio," murmured Professor Snape, and with a deft motion he caught Malfoy's wand. Hermione felt relief wash over her. He might prefer the Slytherins, but he was a professor, after all. The small commentator in her head noted the wandless summoning he'd just done with admiration.  
  
"Ah, Professor. I was just..."  
  
"I suggest that you confine your attempts at romance to the ladies of your own house, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, his voice bearing a great degree of annoyance threaded through its normal silken tones. "And before you attempt to take what is not offered again, consider, with what minimum of forethought you possess, where you will stand at the end of it."  
  
Draco changed color, and looked at the floor.  
  
"I suggest that you spend the weekend in your room, Mr. Malfoy. I shall return your wand later, and I will be writing your father tonight. In addition, I am removing one hundred points from Slytherin, for your stupidity." He turned to Hermione. "If I may walk you to Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
"Actually, Severus," a voice came, "I'll do that." The corridor, which had been empty save for the darting shadow of a tabby cat, rang with the astringent tones of Minerva McGonagal. Her anger was visible in the flare of her nose, and the tightness around her eyes.  
  
"Minerva," Professor Snape said, as Draco slunk off.  
  
"All I have to say is that that young man is very lucky that you walked past here first," she said, with an air of keeping herself under control.  
  
"Indeed," he said, and nodded to them both coolly before resuming his stroll down the corridor.  
  
"Did he hurt you, dear?" Hermione realized the question was directed to her, and shook her head.  
  
"Only...my pride." However, her legs weren't entirely supporting her, and McGonagall's sharp eyes noted it as well as the bruise blossoming on her jaw.  
  
"I think you need to visit Madam Pomfrey, and go straight to bed," she said, wrapping an arm around Hermione and leading her off in the appropriate direction firmly. "Preferably with a Dreamless Sleep potion. I'll speak to your professors about tomorrow."  
  
"But my work...."  
  
"I'll see it gets turned in. Now, no more arguments, young woman."  
  
Hermione had to admit that when McGonagall got angry, things happened fast. She found herself eating a piece of chocolate for shock, while a few passes with a wand took care of the incipient bruise on her jaw and mild concussion from hitting the wall. She was then tucked up in the hospital wing with a dose of Dreamless Sleep awaiting her. Under Madam Pomfrey's stern eye, she undressed, did her nightly ablutions, and drank it. She drifted off to sleep seeing McGonagall sorting efficiently through her bookbag.  
Minerva McGonagall strode back to Gryffindor tower with long angry strides, working out some of her anger on the stone floor. Damn that Malfoy boy! Hermione didn't deserve this right now, really she didn't. Minerva made a mental note to make sure Hermione knew to come to her. It wasn't as if she could go to her parents. (Not that most girls would.... )  
  
But she would collect the girl's assignments for her and send them around. It was something to help, at least. Most of it was in her bag, but Minerva knew perfectly well that Hermione had a paper due in Advanced Transfiguration, since she taught it, and it wasn't in the bag. Therefore, she was headed back to her room, to find it. (Who would know...ah. Ask Ginny Weasley. They study together, she probably knows where she keeps papers she's done but hasn't turned in yet. And it's less fuss than asking one of the boys to go in her room and look. )  
  
She passed up the stairs and through the portrait hole, causing a stir in the Common Room.  
  
"Something wrong, Professor?" asked Harry, looking up from his book in surprise.  
  
"I need to speak to Ginny Weasley," she said, simply.  
  
"Gin's up in her dorm, since Hermione's not back yet, " said Ron, looking up from the chessboard. "At least, I haven't seen her go out.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," said Professor McGonagall, and swept up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.  
  
She found Ginny lying on her stomach on her bed, muttering potion ingredients to herself, with a large text open in front of her. Ginny did a double take when she saw Professor McGonagall.  
  
"What..."  
  
"If you would accompany me to Hermione's room, " she said.  
  
"Hermione's not back yet."  
  
"I know," was all McGonagall said before turning and striding out of the dorm. Ginny grabbed her robe off the foot of the bed and pulled it on as she followed. She watched with some surprise as McGonagall used a password that unlocked the door, and strode straight to the desk.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"I need Hermione's assignments for tomorrow. I assumed you might know her filing system.  
  
"The stuff she was working on for tonight would be in her bag," said Ginny, musingly, and then consulting Hermione's master project chart which hung over her desk. "But there's a paper to be turned in for Advanced Transfiguration...which would be...in....Here," said Ginny, turning and flipping quickly through the bottom drawer, and extracting a roll of parchment.  
  
"Thank you, Miss Weasley. Would you do me the favor of feeding her cat?"  
  
"Where's Hermione?"  
  
"She's sleeping in the hospital wing tonight, Miss Weasley," said the Professor, and observed Ginny's tense face and the obvious worry in her eyes. "Madam Pomfrey gave her a potion."  
  
"I...what...what happened to her?"  
  
McGonagall looked at her and said, "I believe that discussion needs to happen elsewhere."  
In her office, she offered Ginny tea, which the girl refused with barely any politeness, slender body quivering with tension. Oh, yes... thought Minerva, remembering the conversation she'd overheard down the hall with the superior hearing of a feline. Indeed, that was what had drawn her attention first. Draco's drawling, vicious tones played back in her head. ("Ginny Weasley does have a damned hot body, I'll admit. Tell me, is she any good in bed?" Ahhh... no wonder Ginny's so concerned. I had wondered...but no matter. First things first. )  
  
"I suggest, Miss Weasley, that this go no further than between ourselves. Draco Malfoy...forced his attentions on Miss Granger this evening as she was returning from the library."  
  
The girl went stark white, then iron controls slammed down, and she nodded. "Go on," she said in a low and composed voice, though a rage of epic proportions surged behind the frail barrier of control.  
  
"Professor Snape happened along the corridor, however, and I was not far behind him. I assure you that Malfoy is recieving some consequences for his behavior. They are lighter than perhaps you or I would give him..."  
  
There was a mutter, which Minerva tactfully ignored, and continued speaking. (Did I hear something about using his balls for Quidditch practice?)  
  
"...but the matter has been and currently is being attended to. Miss Granger has been given a potion to help her sleep, and I would appreciate her having some peace and quiet when she wakes. As her...closest friend...I feel that you will be able to materially assist in that."  
  
Ginny nodded. "It's a good thing you didn't tell Harry or Ron. They'd go remove his balls through his nose and feed them to him." She clapped one hand over her mouth, and flushed red.  
  
Professor McGonagall raised one brow, laughing inwardly. (Just like her older brothers...speech before thought.) "The sentiment is shared, but we do recognize the impracticality of such a course of action, I believe, Miss Weasley."  
  
She looked at her Head of House for a moment and said, "What IS being done? if she asks."  
  
"He confined him to his rooms for the weekend, removed one hundred points from Slytherin, and I believe that Professor Snape is currently composing a letter to Lucius Malfoy."  
  
Ginny nodded.  
  
"For what it's worth," the Professor continued, "I suspect that Lucius Malfoy will be more than a little upset with his son."  
  
Ginny nodded again, smiled a little, vicious smile, and stood up. "I believe that's all I need to know, Professor," said the girl, and, still a little pale with suppressed emotion, she walked to the door. "Thank you for telling me."  
  
"You, of all people, needed to know," said Minerva, and nodded at Ginny's look of surprise. "Oh, you're quite well within the rules in terms of public affection, and I refuse to begin bedroom checks on anyone, least of all the Head Girl, within my House on the basis of an ugly statement from a...Malfoy." Her tone dripped distaste, and then she smiled. "I do wish you both all the best."  
  
Ginny nodded, and left.  
  
Minerva McGonagall sighed, and drained the last of her tea, before walking over to her fireplace and tossing in a bit of Floo powder. "Albus, if you're available, something has come up that you need to be informed about..."  
. 


	4. Friday morning, part one

--the following morning--  
  
"You look like hell, Ginny," her brother greeted her when she came downstairs the next morning. "Fight with 'Mione?"  
  
"Where is she, anyway?" said Harry, walking downstairs. "She's normally the first one here."  
  
"No, I didn't sleep well. Hermione....Oh, damn," said Ginny helplessly. "I'm only going to tell you guys once, and only you guys, and only because you're her very best friends. But I want you to promise that you will not DO anything about what I tell you, and you won't tell anyone."  
  
"I take it we're not going to like it." Ron's statement fell flat and hard.  
  
"Okay," said Harry patiently. "Who are we going to restrain the urge to kill?"  
  
Ginny bit her lip, and looked at them both. "It'll be restraint, too."  
  
Ron worked it out quickly. "Malfoy, I'll bet."  
  
"What did he....Oh, Merlin, did he...I will kill him," said Harry, going white, scar livid purple against his forehead. Ginny put up a hand to wave him down, and Ron grabbed his shoulder to settle him.  
  
"No, he didn't get that far, according to Professor McGonagall. Snape came along."  
  
"Snape?"  
  
"Look, Ron, even if he doesn't like you guys, he can't very well ignore a member of his own house trying to rape someone, okay?" At that blunt phrasing, they both shut up. "She said he is being punished. A hundred points from Slytherin, and Snape was going to owl his father, probably has by now."  
  
Harry laughed. "I've seen Lucius Malfoy in action." His mouth twisted, and then he said, "You know, I can almost find it in me to feel sorry for that stupid git." "WHAT?" said Ron. "But he..."  
  
"Lucius Malfoy is going to fucking KILL Draco for that stupidity, Ron. I wouldn't want to be Draco when his father finds out."  
  
"I personally think we should use his balls for Quidditch practice, " said Ginny, face hard.  
  
"Well, yeah," said Harry. "No question." He sighed. "So she's up in the hospital wing, huh?"  
  
"Yeah," said Ginny. "I'm going to skip Divination and go see her after breakfast."  
  
"Okay, " said Ron. "Um..."  
  
"Yeah, I know. You guys can't skip Potions. I'll tell her you're thinking of her."  
  
"And trying not to kill Malfoy."  
  
"You promised!"  
  
"Yeah. I'll just content myself with thinking of what I'll do to him on the Quidditch pitch," commented Harry. "Let's go get breakfast. I can't plot revenge without fuel."  
  
"Harry, you can't plot revenge without food. That's my job."  
  
"Neither of you plot well without Hermione to think out the details."  
  
"Will you stand in?"  
  
"No, when she asks me what you're up to, I want to be able to say honestly I don't know."  
--the dungeons, eight am, Friday morning--  
  
Severus Snape was NOT looking forward to the Advanced Potions class he was teaching that morning. Of course, he never looked forward to a session of teaching, and with the rivalries and tensions between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the section that contained the seventh-years from both houses was generally tense at best, if not an incipient riot. And, he realized, suddenly, today it would contain Draco Malfoy, who had tried to rape a Gryffindor last night, the victim, and the victim's two best friends, who had undoubtably been informed of the previous night's happenings. He turned to his personal potions cupboard, and took a headache potion in advance. He also made very sure his wand was up his sleeve.  
  
But Granger wasn't there. Malfoy was, but he seemed curiously subdued, and Goyle and Crabbe's whispers to him earned only a hissed command to shut the hell up before he relapsed into brooding.  
  
There was a curious tension between Potter and Weasley, and with the way they were very carefully not looking over at the Slytherin side, he decided they knew. But the others...they knew something was wrong, and there were glances at Granger's empty place, but they weren't exhibiting the kind of barely leashed anger that would have come from knowing what happened. He stepped to the front and began.  
  
"Since your NEWTS are coming up and I have the dubious privilege of preparing you to leave this school and inflict your minimal skills on the wizarding world, we are going to discuss the potions commonly catalogued as...."  
  
"Severus, if you don't mind?" The cool voice was a familiar one, and one he hadn't expected to hear either. Certainly the letter delivered by a smug raven early that morning had said nothing of the kind. He looked up to see Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway, still caped from the light rain outside, and looking as dangerous as he had ever seen him.  
  
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to borrow one of your students for a day or two," he said. "Draco."  
  
Draco had gone pale the second he'd heard his father's voice. Severus glanced at him, and could find it in him to pity him as he walked, with the fragile dignity of the condemned, up towards his father.  
  
"If you have him out more than three days, he won't be able to make up the time, Lucius, no matter what he does," Snape found himself saying. Their eyes locked, light to dark. Then Lucius turned, and walked out, Draco following. The door slammed.  
  
Snape exhaled, and saw, of all people, Potter glance back toward the door with a look of quickly veiled sympathy. (Then again, he's seen a little more of Lucius Malfoy than his classmates. There may be a brain under that skull, if he's figured out what's probably awaiting Draco.) And much to his surprise, Potter locked eyes with him, and his mouth shaped silent words, followed by a glance at Granger's empty place. (Thank you. )  
Fortunately, he was disciplined enough to deal with surprises.  
He raised his voice again. "As I was saying before the interruption, we are going to discuss the potions commonly catalogued as miscellaneous. This categorization leads some idiots to consider them of only minimal usefulness; however, this category contains.... Miss Patil, if you wish to fail your examinations it is no concern of mine; however, it would be exceptionally rude to condemn your classmates to the same fate by your whispers. Let them fail by their -own- stupidity. Five points from Gryffindor....This category contains some of the most commonly used and abused potions in the wizarding world...." 


	5. What do you say?

the hospital wing, eight-ten am  
  
"Hey," Ginny said, stepping just inside the door. Hermione was seated on her bed, reading one of her textbooks.  
  
"Hey," said Hermione in turn, catching her lip in her teeth. Ginny recognized that by now. Hermione was close to tears.  
  
"Gin, I...."  
  
"Shh. It's okay. I love you. You're strong."  
  
"I don't feel very strong."  
  
"I think you are."  
  
"What I am is fucking lucky. I slapped his face and he hit me back." She caressed the left side of her jaw; Madam Pomfrey had repaired the bruising, and the loosened teeth, but she could not wave a wand and mend the violation Hermione felt. "Then he stepped back and got his wand in his hand. I don't know what he would have hexed me with, but I was too..." she stopped, and started again, "I was.... I just stood there.I just.... I just couldn't believe that he'd actually try. I mean, I'm Head Girl, you know?! I can't disappear."  
  
"We all knew Malfoy was an idiot, he just proved it."  
  
"And then Snape came along and Accioed his wand, and gave him hell. And then McGonagall came up...God...." She trailed off and shook her head in frustration. Ginny just held her, and listened, and felt as helpless as she ever had in her life.  
  
There was a tap on the door, and Madam Pomfrey poked her head in. "You have a visitor, Hermione. And, Ginny, I think you should stay," she added, as Ginny reflexively stood up. She sat back down as Professor Hooch strode in, bearing with her something of the air of the Quidditch pitch. Madam Pomfrey quietly shut the door behind her as she left.  
  
Ginny was a bit confused. Had Harry been hurt, she would have expected Professor Hooch to show up. But Hermione? Hermione's flights were intellectual in nature; she'd barely been able to pass her basics in broomstick riding.  
  
"Hermione." Professor Hooch's voice was softer and more compassionate than anytime Ginny had ever heard it before. "I bet you're wondering what I'm doing here, hm?" She laughed. "You don't have to say it. But, girl, you and I have some things in common, and I have some things to say you need to hear right now."  
  
Her voice was as commanding and compelling as it ever was in class, and they both sat up a little straighter, focusing on her, as they drew apart.  
  
"Ah, I'm the last to be offended by that, my dears. My wife died fighting Voldemort, many years ago."  
  
They were surprised, but their hands crept back together. "Hermione," Freyja Hooch went on, "I understand what you feel right now. I really do. Because it happened to me once too. But there were three of them, and none of my professors happened along in time."  
Ginny learned a lot that day, from someone she'd thought she had nothing to learn from anymore. Freyja Hooch was by turns brutally honest and compassionate as she talked to Hermione. But the last thing she said was the oddest one of all, Ginny thought.  
  
"She lives at your parents' house, doesn't she?" Professor Hooch asked Ginny.  
  
"Yes, she broke with her parents at the beginning of summer holidays just past," Ginny said.  
  
The older woman nodded, then came to a decision. "It's early in the term," she said. "And you two are smart enough to make up the time. I'm going to recommend to Albus that he send you two home for the weekend. You want to be a mediwitch, I know...well, the basics of it are listening, and patience. She'll need you while she heals up, during this initial phase. I'm going to talk to Albus now, I'll be back later."  
  
"And, Gin, shouldn't you be in Transfiguration about now?" Hermione said, eyes still hot with emotion but a mask of normality in place.  
  
"Well, yes...but..."  
  
"I'll be okay, really. I"m working on something from this summer. You go on and do your classes, I'll see you this afternoon." Hermione's smile was shadowed, but it was a smile, all the same.  
  
"Okay," Ginny said. She squeezed Hermione's hands once, then leaned in and kissed her cheek, chastely. "I love you. Remember that."  
  
"I will. I love you too."  
As Ginny left, she was stopped by Madam Pomfrey. "I wanted to have a word with you away from Hermione," she said.  
  
"Of course, Professor," Ginny said.  
  
"You have just as hard a job as she does," she was told. And then Poppy explained to her the likely symptoms...nightmares, flashbacks, depression, fits of anger...and how to deal with them.  
  
"It should be more broadly taught," Madam Pomfrey said. "After all, there's a war on." She sighed, and said, "I will be available if either of you need to talk. About anything."  
  
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Ginny said. "I feel powerless."  
  
"I know. But you aren't. Now, off to class with you."  
Ginny was late to her transfiguration class, but McGonagall gave her one sharp look, and then continued on. (Of course, McGonagall knows, she thought. She came along just after Snape did, she said. Merlin's wand, but Hermione was lucky. At that time of night nearly no one ever comes along there. That's probably why he tried it there. But, what an idiot! Like she said, she's head girl, she can't just vanish. What did he think was going to happen? Simple, Virginia, she said to herself sternly, he didn't think. He just did. Oh, his father's going to make him wish he was dead....  
  
She smiled to herself, and settled back into the flow of class. 


	6. Results of a Letter

--eight-eleven am, Friday morning--  
  
Draco Malfoy had never been so frightened in all his life as he had been when he heard his father's voice say, "Severus, if you don't mind?" to Professor Snape as Potions started. He had left his bag for Crabbe to carry back up to his room, and his father had tossed him a cape as soon as the Potions lab door slammed behind them. But he had not said a word. He had just strode off towards the front doors of the school, and on out, heedless of the light rain that was falling. Undoubtably he would Apparate back to Malfoy Manor, with Draco, and this was the thing frightening Draco.  
  
If he was just going to yell at me he would have done so in Dumbledore's office, he reflected as he walked along behind his father. . But...he swallowed nervously...anything more serious he won't do there. That's why he's taking me back home. Oh, Merlin. This is gonna be bad.  
  
Lucius Malfoy was not making any pretenses. The Anti-Apparation wards extended to just the large gate that marked the main entrance to Hogwarts. Three paces outside, he reached for Draco's hand, and held it in a grip like carved stone, then Apparated.  
They appeared in the main hall of Malfoy Manor. House elves appeared and took their cloaks in their usual invisible silence, and then Lucius Malfoy walked into his study, Draco following miserably in his wake.  
  
Lucius sat down at his desk, leaving Draco standing uncomfortably before him. He exhaled, and stared at his son with icy eyes before he finally spoke.  
  
"Up until this point, Draco, I had been fairly satisfied with your progress. Not so brilliant nor so dull in school as to raise comment, and apart from your constant and understandable problems with Potter, managing to not excite the attention of students or teachers. This is wise...We Malfoys have always led from the shadows. However, I am now convinced that you are blazingly, blindingly stupid." His voice cracked like a whiplash, and Draco twitched.  
  
"I do not refer to your seeming taste for unwilling women. This is a sport I myself have engaged in from time to time. But your choice went past unwise into imbecility, and your timing is the poorest I've ever seen. What were you going to do with her? Imperio or not, unless you cast a Memory Charm of a skill that you simply do not have, she would remember what you just did to her, and there would be no way to keep her silent short of death. And she is not one of the cattle we bring in for revels, Mudblood though she is. If she disappeared, a hunt would go up that would not cease until she was found. If she died, the Aurors would be all over Hogwarts, and would not rest until her killer was found. She is Head Girl, and for all that I myself would have enjoyed hearing her scream...we can't touch her right now. And you knew that. And you did it anyway. Do you have any excuse for your stupidity?"  
  
Draco knew better than to try. "No excuse, sir."  
  
"You have some sense at least," his father said, voice like a hanging judge. "I have been waiting and working for all these years for our Lord. He understands that like serpents, we Malfoys do our best work in the shadowy edges. He understands that I must occasionally wear a cloak of respectability. And so I have done what I had to to stay out of Azkhaban, that my hands might be free to do the Dark Lord's work. I will not have the adolescent lusts of a stupid boy bring it all down about my ears!"  
  
His voice had risen, and now rang in the study. He took a deep breath, and his voice returned to its usual silken tones.  
  
"If you wish to take unwilling females, go into the muggle world, into their slums and their darknesses, and take as many as you will. But foul our nest again, and I will not care that you are my only heir." His eyes met Draco's and his son shivered and dropped his gaze.  
  
"And there are consequences for this stupidity. I will engrave them into your brain so that you do not forget. Ever."  
  
Draco closed his eyes, but he still heard the silky way his father said the word, as if he were pronouncing the name of his beloved.  
  
"Crucio."  
--The Burrow, eleven-twenty-three am, Friday morning.--  
  
Molly Weasley was relaxing at her kitchen table with a cup of tea. She rolled her shoulders, listened to the radio, and was filled with a warm sense that everything was right with the world. Encouraged by the early birthday gift of a very luxurious new bathroom, bought with the revenues from the twins' business, she had embarked on a cleaning and redecoration spree. She had just removed everything from her youngest son's room, cleaned it thoroughly, repainted, and put it all back, thereby eliminating the vague odor of stale socks that seems to permeate the personal living space of all adolescent males, and was musing on doing out either her bedroom or redoing the one Bill and Charlie had shared into a guest room when the fire crackled green, and an envelope shot out.  
  
"Hm, " she said. "It must be urgent." She picked it up, opened it, and read it. And reread it. Her hand groped for a chair, and she dropped into it bonelessly, tears beginning to run down her cheeks. But Molly was not one to give in to emotion. Hurt demanded action. She swiped at her tears, then walked over to the desk, which obediently opened and gave her a quill and parchment.  
  
She wrote Poppy Pomfrey back, dropped it through the Floo, and then went upstairs to make sure Hermione and Ginny's bedrooms were ready for them to come home to. If she had to occasionally conjure up a tissue and blow her nose, well, there was no one around to comment. 


	7. Getting Clean

--eight-thirty pm, Friday evening--  
  
They stepped through the fire in Minerva McGonagall's study and out into the kitchen of the Burrow late that night. Molly was waiting for them and sat them down in front of a meal, before shooing them upstairs. She kept up a light flow of banter about her redecorations that demanded no response, but managed to be light and comfortingly ordinary, and Hermione let it flow around her with some surprise. When had she learned to find this constant chatter comforting? Two responses warred within her, and she bit down on both the urge to rage and the urge to weep, and ate her food in silence.  
  
"Into the bath with both of you," Molly said, briskly, and Hermione obediently turned at the landing to go into the bathroom, stopping short in surprise. Clearly Molly had redone the bathroom as well. Instead of an ancient castiron tub that was so short only a child could stretch out in it, and a rickety shower stall that leaked badly unless reenchanted each time, there were shining tiles and a tub that was surely big enough for two, in which even one of the lanky Weasley males could have stretched out in comfort.  
  
"It IS nice, Mum," Ginny said behind her. "You said it was an early birthday present from Fred and George?"  
  
"Yes, indeed. They said that it was just repayment for all the years of scrubbing them clean that I should get my own private spa." She smiled. "All the conveniences, although Arthur did have to do some enchanting to get everything to work properly. But it's all legal." She flicked a couple of switches, and said, "Now, go on, girls. Your bed will be waiting when you're done."  
  
Hermione began to strip her robe off, and was folding it when she saw Ginny doing the same.  
  
"Oh, I'll wait if you...."  
  
"Nonsense," said Ginny, in much the same tones as her mother. "That tub's big enough for four, let alone two. It looks heavenly, and I for one am tired and sore. Go on, Hermione, " she said, and turned her back to finish undressing.  
  
Hermione stripped, and stepped in, water almost too hot to stand. It felt good, though, and she leaned her head back against the edge, letting herself bake.  
  
A disturbance in the water signaled Ginny's entry. "We were doing a practical in DADA today. Hit someone small with a heavy spell and you knock them down. I think my rear is permanently bruised," she said with a scowl. "Oh, Merlin and Circe, this is....ahhhhh," she said as she settled down, a blissful smile on her face.  
  
"They're serious about it in there," Hermione said with a nod. "It does feel good."  
  
She picked up the sponge and soaped it, and began to wash her face and neck, scrubbing her ear and neck where Malfoy had kissed her, washing herself clean. And suddenly a hand covered hers. Ginny had knelt up and moved over, stopping her, and in the moment of pause she felt the skin where she had been washing going hot with pain.  
  
Oh.  
  
"You can't wash him off you, you know, " she said quietly. "And scrubbing your skin raw won't help you."  
  
"I...." And then she exhaled, and let Ginny take the sponge.  
  
"Will you let me?" she asked quietly, and Hermione, feeling suddenly very, very tired, nodded.  
  
She pulled Hermione to her knees in the water, and began to wash her. It was tender, and although Hermione was reminded of the time in the hotel shower, she realized there was nothing of that in the touch she was being given. Ginny washed her right hand, dipped it to rinse it, and kissed it.  
  
A chaste kiss, but suddenly Hermione was aware of the sensations around her. The warm water on her skin, the perfumes of the soap and bath salts hanging in the air, and the question that hung in the air.  
  
And she couldn't answer. Too afraid, too tired, too soiled by that moment the day before to even consider taking what was offered, to believe anyone wanted her with any kind of tenderness. She froze.  
  
Ginny knelt up, and put her arms around her, wet skin to wet skin in the steamy warmth of the room.  
  
"If you don't want to, I won't push," she whispered. "But I'll be damned if I let Malfoy kill that part of you, that part of us."  
  
Hermione shivered once, convulsively.  
  
"Let it out, Hermione," Ginny said. "It'll poison you, all your life, if you don't. It'll poison us if you don't. Talk to me, tell me what happened... You were taking your shortcut back to Gryffindor Tower from the library, weren't you? Never did tell me why you like that way..." she added in a grumpy aside.  
  
"Only one staircase and it doesn't move very often, " said a voice into her shoulder. "So it's quicker than playing roundabouts with the main stairs."  
  
Ginny nodded, feeling some relief. There were words. If there were words, there was a crack.  
  
And she began to pick at the crack with words, and with her embrace, and with small encouraging silences. Patient work, and time seemed to not pass at all, until Hermione broke and sobbed into her shoulder, and let go of the pain and the anger and the self-hatred, letting them swirl away with the water. 


	8. Return, Broken

ten-thirty pm,Friday night  
  
Normally Harry did his hanging out with Ron in the Gryffindor common room, or the Great Hall, but tonight they'd taken it into Harry's bedroom, by mutual consent. What they wanted to talk about wasn't something that needed to be spread to the rest of the House.  
  
"That was weird, today in Potions." Ron began. He was lounging on Harry's bed, and Harry was sitting backwards around his desk chair, voices low, despite the silencing charm Ron had cast when they came in.  
  
"Yeah....Normally Snape would bite the head off anyone interrupting his class, but he was pretty damn gracious to Malfoy."  
  
Ron snorted. "Well, they're probably both Death Eaters, so it's not surprising. First names, even."  
  
Harry didn't say anything. His knowledge that Snape was a double agent was his, not to be shared even with Ron.  
  
"And what was that shit he said at the end?" Harry asked, to cover his silence. "I've never seen Snape worried about whether a student can keep up with the class. Not even a Slytherin."  
  
"It's pretty damn obvious to me," commented Ron. "Draco wasn't in any of the classes we share with him for the rest of the day, and I share more than you do. Malfoy said, "for a couple of days." And remember Ginny said McGonagall told her Snape was owling him?"  
  
"Yes..." said Harry, thoughtfully. "He had an extra cloak in his hand, too. So he took him back home."  
  
"That's not a good sign at all," added Ron. "Very, very bad."  
  
Harry nodded, watching his friend add up stray pieces with an absent skill that amazed him.  
  
"That's what that "he can't make up the work" statement was. Translates to, "I know you're pissed off but don't hurt him too much, you'll attract attention", said Ron. "And he was going to do something damn severe. He took him home instead of borrowing Dumbledore's office to yell at him in. "  
  
"Yeah, well, Malfoy may be rich and powerful," Harry said, staring out the window thoughtfully at the black velvet of the fall night, "but even he can't torture his son on Dumbledore's study carpet."  
  
"True," said Ron. He came to look over Harry's shoulder, and pointed out the window. "What's that down there?"  
  
Harry's window in Gryffindor Tower happened to look out toward the front of the school. And there was a carriage, magical lights lighting its way, rolling up the drive. It was black, and every line screamed old money.  
  
"Come on," said Harry, scrambling out of his armchair and feeling in his trunk for his old friend the Invisibility Cloak. "I want to see. Whoever it is is coming here, straight to the front door."  
  
He and Ron could still fit together under the cloak, although it helped that they were good friends who didn't mind being hip to hip, and that the cloak had been made with extra fabric. They followed someone out the portrait hole, and slunk down the stairs. After so many years of sneaking around under the cloak, they were quite good, having developed a number of non-verbal signals transmitted by touch under the cover of the cloak. Avoiding Filch, who was muttering to himself as he tramped up the stairs, they rounded the corner and very nearly ran into Professor Snape. They met each other's eyes under the cloak's hood, and nodded in agreement. He was headed toward the entrance, in a purposeful fashion. To meet the black carriage? Whatever it was, they were going to find out.  
  
Slinking after him, they slipped into a handy recess in the wall near the entrance, and watched as he threw one door open and stepped outside, leaving the door open.  
  
"Here 'e is," said a voice, coarsely accented. "You gonna take him in?"  
  
"In a moment," said Snape's voice. There were noises as of something being hauled about, and dumped out on the drive. Someone moaned.  
  
"Right, then," said the other voice. A door shut, and there were noises of wheels on drive, receding.  
  
"Merlin," Snape muttered, and there was an odd note in his voice. "Can you walk?" There was no response, and Snape sighed. "Very well. Hold still...or, as still as you can. Mobilicorpus," he said.  
  
They saw Snape walk back through the door, wand out, directing the floating body of...someone. Whoever it was was wrapped, chin to toes, in black fabric, and was periodically racked by a fit of twitching, accompanied, finally, by a faint moan of pain that rasped from a throat made hoarse from screaming.  
  
Harry bit down on a gasp as he recognized the identity of the body, and beside him Ron's body stiffened as he realized it.  
  
Snape produced an handkerchief and dried tears that were seeping from the corner of the body's eyes. "It's all right now. I'll get you upstairs, and Madam Pomfrey will give you a strong sleeping draught so that you can sleep off the rest of it. I know it hurts...shh. Let's not have the entire damned castle gaping."  
  
There was another convulsion, and a piteous moan. Snape sighed and looked at him, wand moving as he cast another spell around them, then moved on down the corridor, trailing a silenced Draco Malfoy in his wake.  
They didn't speak until they were back in Harry's bedroom.  
  
"So...that's what the aftermath of a Cruciatus curse looks like," said Ron somberly.  
  
"Not just that, " said Harry. "He's been cursed with several bursts of it in a short period of time, that's why he was twitching like that. I read about this side-effect. It sensitizes the nerves, or something, and for a while the body reads any stimulus as pain. No cure for that...he'll just have to wait it out."  
  
"Poor bastard," said Ron. "You're right.... no one deserves that." 


	9. Back To School

"We go back tomorrow," Hermione said into the darkness of her bedroom. She and Ginny were curled together in the bed, warm and comfortable.  
  
"Yes..." Ginny said, and then, "How do you feel?"  
  
"I'm....okay," Hermione said, in a considering tone. "I feel a little bruised inside, yet, but that's where we need to be. We've both got work to do, there. And I'm not going to let him win, and if I don't go back, he does." Her tone was steely, and Ginny smiled to herself and wriggled closer to her, feeling a muscle twinge. She would undoubtably have a bite mark there tomorrow, she thought, and blessed the concealment of school robes. But she wasn't at all unhappy about it.  
  
"I didn't think you would," she said, and kissed the nearest bit of her, which happened to be a shoulder. She was still worried about what would happen when she saw Malfoy or the other Slytherins again, but that was for another day, and not hers to solve. Besides, Hermione had decided to begin sprinkling little kisses up her hand and forearm, and it was creating lovely little sparkly sensations in her that made thinking difficult.  
  
Perhaps, Ginny thought, I'm not really all that tired...and kissed her back, seeing with pleasure that Hermione arched into her caress now, Malfoy's ghost banished, finally. It was with joy that she kissed her, and knew them both to be healed.  
--Monday morning, eight am, the dungeons--  
  
Severus Snape was in a foul mood. He always was, on Mondays. It didn't help that he'd had to tacitly consent to the torture of one of his students the Friday before, and as always it made him feel soiled and dirty. He'd known, known the minute he had seen Lucius Malfoy standing in the classroom doorway, as lethal as a drawn sword.  
  
"There was nothing you could have done, Severus," Dumbledore had said later that night, twinkle absent from those blue eyes. "We both know that you must give the appearance of maintaining a very discreet loyalty, one that can be shown only in small gestures. And he IS the boy's father. He did have the right to take him."  
  
"I know," he had said. "I just wish...." His voice trailed off helplessly, and he made a small gesture of frustration. Fawkes fixed him with one eye, then cooed a long note that wrapped around him like a comforting hug.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore had said. "Go to bed, Severus, and sleep well."  
He had not slept well.  
He swept into the classroom, the chatter ceased, and he surveyed the room. He had expected the spot where Malfoy normally sat to be empty; he was still up in the hospital wing, under the influence of strong potions to relieve pain and relax the body's muscles, until the effects of the curse wore off. But he was stunned to see Granger sitting there beside Longbottom, talking to him softly and, as usual, walking him through the steps of the potion they were studying in advance. She looked...good, he thought. Color in her cheeks, poise in her stance. Not defeated....but then she has all that Gryffindor courage, she wouldn't admit it if she was.  
  
Class proceeded normally, and they reached the practical. He was doling out the dragon's ashes...as expensive as they were, he kept them under lock and key in the storeroom... when he heard the disturbance.  
  
Amid a circle of murmuring students, Hermione Granger stood, eyes blazing with a cold fury that set even him aback. And at her feet lay Crabbe and Goyle, in full body binds, and moaning with the pain of a particularly nasty combination of hexes, though none were lethal. Her wand lay across the room, on her desk, along with her other potions ingredients, but it hadn't seemed to stop her. He decided to just watch from the door of the storeroom for a moment. Discretion is sometimes the better part of valor.  
  
"Well, " she said, with an amazingly calm voice. "Does anyone else want to show their appreciation of my ass by pinching it, or grab my tits, or tell me how good they are in bed? There's plenty of room on the floor, and I'm not tired. No? Good. Keep this in mind, then,and note that if I get annoyed, I don't need a wand," she said, a vicious tinge to her voice, and stared belligerently across the Slytherin side of the room. Avery wouldn't look at her.  
  
"All right, then, " she said, and stepped over the bodies with an air of finality, and joined the queue at the door to the storeroom, as if nothing had happened.  
  
"Your point has been made, Miss Granger. Creative, if perhaps excessive...."  
  
"I don't think excessive applies to those two louts," she said, but flicked her hand in their direction. "Finite incantatem".  
  
She took her measure of dragon's ashes, and walked back to her desk. A path opened for her past the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were still lying on the floor, weakly attempting to move. "Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, you are excused to the hospital wing as soon as you can walk. The rest of you would be well advised not to waste the time available; if you attempt to apply excess heat to reduce simmering time, the potion will explode. As I mentioned before." The classroom settled into its own soft rhythm of sounds and of whispers. Including Granger coaching Longbottom, -again.-  
  
"Miss Granger, are you going to take Polyjuice and do Longbottom's NEWTs for him, also?" he inquired tartly. A small flush burnt in her cheeks, but her normal reaction was absent. Instead, she looked him square in the eye and said, "I prefer not to visit the hospital wing today, Professor, I've spent enough time in there recently. It will work or not work according to what he does, but I'll be damned if I let the cauldron beside me explode."  
  
"Indeed," he said, and turned away. But not before noticing Longbottom putting entirely too many toad eggs in, and the fact that Granger hadn't said a word to him about it. He found his mouth quirking in what might have turned into a smile if he wasn't so disciplined, and walked to the other side of the room to survey some of the other cauldrons 


End file.
